


Praise the Lord

by Ruar



Series: Doing the Lord's work, or you know just doing the lord) [4]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2019-08-24 09:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16637027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruar/pseuds/Ruar
Summary: Rumor has it that Andrew Minyard sucked Lord Moriyama’s dick for college money and then used it on hisbrother’stuition instead.The actual story isn’t too far off from the truth. It’s just that Andrew didn’t expect the pretty face he saw every week to be Lord Moriyama himself. Definitely did not see that one coming.





	Praise the Lord

**Author's Note:**

> Arrives years later with this promised ichidrew. Not quite smut sorry but its something

Rumor has it that Andrew Minyard sucked Lord Moriyama’s dick for college money and then used it on his _brother’s_ tuition instead.

The actual story isn’t too far off from the truth. It’s just that Andrew didn’t expect the pretty face he saw every week to be Lord Moriyama himself. Definitely did not see that one coming.

*

Andrew is on shift at the bar that night when a three piece walks in and slides himself gracefully into a seat in front of him. Even if the man wasn’t overdressed for a night at Eden’s, Andrew would still raise an eyebrow at the two heavily suited men trailing after him. _A king and his royal guard?_ If the man is trying to stay low profile, he’s definitely failing on all fronts. Mr. Three Piece lifts his gloved hand to wave the bodyguards away, and Andrew’s eyes catch on the flash of a Rolex before it disappears beneath his sleeve again. He raises his eyebrow even higher. The glove isn’t anything Andrew hasn’t already seen, considering everything that goes on at a club like this. The Rolex, on the other hand, on top of the ridiculously expensive looking suit, is a guarantee for a hefty tip. 

And Andrew is intrigued. He takes a quick note of the man’s features, hair slicked back over a pretty enough face, his eyes made sharp with liner. Andrew runs the possibility of a backroom escapade briefly over in his head until Roland nudges him in the side. It seems like Andrew isn’t the only one having that thought. He returns the stupid wink he gets with a blank stare until Roland leaves and then finally turns to the man waiting in front of him.

Andrew makes a show of flicking his eyes up and down at his suit.

“Are you sure you don’t want to be up in the VIP, _Your Majesty_?” He drawls the words out in mockery, but he doesn’t expect the man to do anything other than brush him off. It would have gone unnoticed in the dark lighting, but the fancy pants has had Andrew’s attention since he walked in. Andrew doesn’t miss how the man ever so slightly flinches. _Huh, interesting_. 

They don’t exchange any more words after that. The man orders his drink and finishes it in silence, simply sliding a bill over the counter before he leaves. No backroom escapade then. No hefty tip either. Andrew shrugs. The night is still young, he figures, and leaves it at that to attend to other people at the bar.

At the end of the night though, when Andrew reaches for his phone, he stills when he finds a roll of twenties in his apron pocket. He weighs it in his hand and frowns. Andrew had been behind the bar the whole night and surely would have noticed any stray hands near him. He filters through his memory quickly and comes up with the shiny flashes of a Rolex. A stray smile sneaks onto his face.

Oh, guess he was right about the tip after all.

*

The next Friday, Mr. Three Piece shows up again, and Andrew flashily does a two finger salute before aiming the roll of bills from his pocket straight at the man’s pretty face. 

“I’m uninterested in your charity, _Your Highness_.”

The man recovers from the initial shock of getting slapped in the face by his own money and looks back up, giving Andrew, of all things, a thin smile in return. 

“Is that a no to my advances?”

“Is that your way of hitting people up? I wasn’t aware that’s how people did it nowadays.”

“Think of it as an investment,” the man says, but doesn’t make any move to give the money back. When Andrew continues staring in lieu of giving him an answer, he simply orders his drink again.

Andrew turns to make the drink. The thought of a backroom escapade flickers through Andrew’s mind again. He can’t deny that he’s interested, pretty face to go with that loaded pocket. 

“Here,” Andrew nods his head toward the back door, “and only on my terms.” Andrew sets the rum filled glass down on the bar with a sense of finality. 

The man simply smiles to himself and raises the glass in acceptance. He spends the rest of the night running the finger of his gloved hand around the rim of his glass between sips, and Andrew turns to tend to the rest of the drinks.

*

Andrew again finds the magic rolls of twenties in his apron when the man finally leaves. He’s still watching Mr. Fancy Pants leave when he hears the familiar laugh at his side. 

Roland puts a hand to his own chest and mock gasps. “Andrew Minyard, are you cheating on me? I’m hurt.”

He brushes off Roland in favor of flipping through the bills. Denial dies on his tongue when he finds, hiddens in the rolls, a slip of fine parchment with a number neatly scrawled onto it. He can feel his lips curl ever so slightly and squashes the feeling down. Andrew pulls out his lighter and sets the corner of it aflame, ignoring Roland’s shriek in the background. 

_Deal_. 

*

Next Friday, Andrew takes the man straight to the back room and calls him _Lord_ before swallowing him whole. 

*

And he keeps calling him Lord. The man has a praise kink, the rich bastard.

*

*

It’s nearly a year later when the new Lord ascends his right to the Moriyama empire. Andrew clicks to turn on the morning news, and Andrew nearly spills his coffee onto Wymack’s beat up couch. It’s nearly a year later, and Andrew’s memory doesn’t fail him when that familiar pretty face stares back at him from the TV screen.

 _Praise the Lord_ , he thinks. Andrew scoffs and takes a drag from his cigarette. Renee must be rubbing off on him.

**Author's Note:**

> Andrew: dumps college tuition worth of cash onto the dining table  
> Aaron: wtf andrew


End file.
